


I Think I See The Future

by Duck_Life



Category: All New X-Men (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Jean Grey School, Phoenix Force - Freeform, The Phoenix - Freeform, guacamole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Phoenix is returning to Earth. Again. And what better bonding experience for Jean and Quentin than to share it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So it all starts out with the guacamole.

Quentin and Jean are splitting it between them on the kitchen counter of the Jean Grey School, dipping in tortilla chips while deep in conversation about whether Chewbacca or old Hank (not Jean’s Hank, she specifies when she pits them against each other) would win in a fight.

“Chewy’s got a gun,” Quentin points out, chomping down on a Tostito. “Bang, Beast is down.”

“Hank could have a gun,” Jean points out, jabbing her guac-laden chip toward him for emphasis. “I’d give him a gun. For argument’s sake, let’s say I give him a gun.”

“Well, that’s _boring_ ,” he says. “Now it’s just an old-fashioned duel.”

“Fine, no guns,” she says, and then laughs slightly.

“What?”

“You’ve got…” says Jean, pointing, and he crosses his eyes enough to see that he’s somehow managed to get a glob of guacamole on his nose. “Here, I’ll get it,” she grins, leaning forward like she’s planning to lick it off, and Quentin jerks out of the way. “Oh, come on.”

“Gross, cooties,” he quips, wiping the stuff off with his sleeve.

“You’re wasting perfectly good guac,” she says, accusatory. “And you’ve never minded my _cooties_ before.”

Quentin smirks, then surprises her when he grabs and dips her so low that the ends of her hair touch the linoleum. “True,” he acknowledges, and kisses her, both of them tasting of avocado.

When a spike of pain spears through both of their minds, he drops her unceremoniously on the floor.

“Yikes.” Jean starts to sit, glancing up to see Quentin cradling his head, realizing he’s felt the same thing she has. “Was… sorry, that wasn’t me, was it?”

“No,” he says, eyes shut, leaning on his elbows against the counter. “No, that was…” It occurs to him that she wasn’t here last time, wouldn’t remember the feeling, didn’t have the same pit of panic in her stomach that he did right now.

“Well, then,” she starts, irritated, but then she picks up what just happened from the surface of his thoughts. “Oh. Oh my God.”

“Come on,” he says, sticking a hand out to help her up. “Let’s go see how the grown-ups are dealing.” Hand in hand, they hurry down the hall, the bowl of guacamole forgotten.

The war room is already humming with discussion and discourse, so when they rush in, neither Storm, Rachel, nor Hank notice and tell them to leave. Instead, the three of them fixate on the monitor where Emma Frost has appeared.

“McCoy?” Her normally perfect hair in disarray, she looks frantic and furious. “Are you seeing this shit?”

Hank sighs. “Yes, Emma, we’ve got readings over here. And… well, Rachel.” Rachel gives a half-hearted wave with one hand- the other’s rubbing circles into her forehead.

Emma, while they watch, downs three ibuprofen with water. “Unbelievable. Well, I can see why this damn thing was so attached to Jean Grey all these years. They’re the _same_. Soon as you kill them, they come _right back_ like a _fucking whack-a-mole_. Hi, Jean.”

“Um. Hi, Emma,” she says in a small voice, also waving. Three heads whip toward her and Quentin.

“Go,” Storm tells them almost automatically. “You two shouldn’t be here right now.”

As Quentin rears up, ready to issue some argument that Jean’s certain will get him struck by lightning, she puts a hand on his arm and says something herself. “I think we should,” she says, still quiet, but firm. “I mean… it’s the Phoenix, right? That’s what’s going on?”

“Sharp as a tack, that one,” says Emma.

“Hush,” says Hank, and Emma’s expression conveys quite obviously how much she wishes she weren’t miles out of range of hurting him.

“Yes,” Rachel tells Jean. “Yes, it’s- we think it’s the Phoenix.”

“Then Quentin and I have even more right to be here than you do,” Jean says bluntly. “We already know he’s going to be host to the Phoenix force in the future, I mean… we’ve _seen_ that. This _is_ his future. And as for me… look, not to be _narcissistic_ or anything, but I’m _Jean freakin’ Grey_.”

For a long moment, Storm just stares at her, assessing her. “Fine,” she says finally. “You can stay. Hank, brief them.”

“Something strange is going on,” says Hank. “And the Phoenix is involved.”

Quentin blinks. “ _That’s_ it? That’s all you know?”

“I did say brief,” mumbles Storm.

“Henry, you’re dating an alien, right?” Emma says through the screen. “Could you please ask her to fly me very, very far away from this planet?”

For a long time, they talk, they debate, with Jean and Quentin standing awkwardly against the back wall, permitted to stay but unlikely to be taken seriously. Quentin, surprisingly, is keeping whatever opinions he has to himself. Jean’s beginning to wish she hadn’t campaigned to remain here; everything they’re saying sounds so drastic. They talk about their relations with the Avengers, tentative as they already are. They talk about taking Scott into custody (old Scott, not her Scott, who’s still in space and might not even know about the new threat). Jean can tell they would bring up the rest of the Phoenix Five, too, except that one of them is dead and one of them is part of the conversation. At one point Psylocke shows up, shoots a questioning glance at Jean and Quentin in the corner, and then takes a seat at the table.

“It’ll go after a host, if it really is coming here,” Rachel says finally, the subject they’ve all been tiptoeing around. “It’s always the first thing the Phoenix does.”

Betsy Braddock raises her hand like she’s volunteering to take out the trash. “I’ll do it,” she says. “Hell, I’m one of the only telepaths who _hasn’t_. I was starting to feel left out.”

Rachel’s already shaking her head. “No. No, we’re not just gonna _throw_ people at it. And Betsy, we need you on the team.”

“Is there a chance the Phoenix will go after Hope Summers again?” says Storm.

“Been there, done that,” Emma says. “Hope would just let it go again. I’m guessing that this time the firebird’s looking for more permanent arrangements.”

“Which means me,” says Quentin, speaking finally. “We already know that I have the Phoenix force in the future, and that the world is _intact_ in the future. So I guess this is it. This is my chance to step up.” He sounds nothing like the kid who used to threaten burning down this school several times a week.

A heavy silence follows his announcement.

“Kid,” says Rachel eventually, “no offense, and you are a valued member of the faculty here, but the idea of you having access to limitless power is _literally_ the stuff my nightmares are made of.”

Jean expects Quentin to be pissed, but he just sort of shrugs like he agrees. “He won’t do it alone,” she says, making a decision in a split second. “We’ll share it. He and I.”

Utter silence again, except for the sound of Emma Frost shaking out more ibuprofen for herself.

“It’s a thought,” Rachel says quietly. And it makes sense, really. With Quentin’s future and Jean’s past, the two of them might be the perfect candidates here. Jean Grey (the old one, the dead one) might have caused a lot of damage as the Phoenix, but she always _almost_ had a handle on it, always _almost_ could control it. Maybe splitting it with Quentin Quire is the thing that makes this finally possible for her.

“Well, that’s just fabulous,” Emma speaks up. “I’m sure you two will have _fabulous_ dinner dates chowing down on a couple of _planets_.”

“It’s the best idea we have,” Hank admits, and Jean can’t help but feel pleased with herself. Quentin reaches down to squeeze her hand, because this is happening, this is something in motion, this is a change. “Granted, there is always the chance that this doesn’t come down to the Phoenix finding a host. But if it does…” He glances over at Jean and Quentin. “I have to agree. It should be the two of you.”

As they all sit there, mulling that over- Rachel, Storm and Betsy contemplative, Emma with contempt- a familiar face appears on the screen over Emma’s shoulder.

Well, the bottom half of a familiar face.

“Hey,” says Scott slowly. “Somethin’ going on?”


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow Jean finds herself perched on the corner of Ororo’s bed later that afternoon, her hands twitching and wriggling in her lap like squeamish mice. The words “fire and life incarnate” resonate in her head like a drumbeat.

When Ororo finds her there after about fifteen minutes, she doesn’t even look surprised. “Having second thoughts?”

Jean twists her hands together like she’s trying to tie her fingers in a knot. “I can’t afford second thoughts.”

“Of course you can,” Ororo tells her. “You just can’t afford to act on them.” Sitting beside Jean, she wraps an arm around her shoulders and hugs her closer. Jean can’t help but wonder if this is what it was like for her older self and Storm, being best friends, confiding in each other, comforting each other. Right now, her own best friend is somewhere in space. Ororo’s is gone forever.

“Are you mad?” Jean asks, wincing when she realizes how _young_ she sounds. “That- that I decided to do this. That I’m taking in the Phoenix.”

Ororo sighs, and if Jean felt bad for sounding young, she wonders how Ororo feels about sounding so old. Weary, tired, staring down the barrel of yet another long battle. “I’m not mad,” she says finally. “But I am… concerned. For both you and Quentin. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourselves into.”

Maybe they don’t, Jean admits to herself. But maybe they’re the only chance. “I can do this,” she says, more for her own benefit than for Ororo’s. “Maybe… maybe you should all have a little more faith in me. I mean, the school is _named_ after me.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ororo slides her arm away from Jean and sits on the edge of her bed with her hands in her lap, almost mimicking the girl. “It’s named after a woman who was older and more experienced than you, and still died doing what you’re attempting to do.”

She doesn’t say anything else after that.

* * *

 

“You’re worried.”

“Don’t read my mind, Quire,” Rachel says, and it’s practically a catchphrase of hers now. She’s leaning against the wall outside the kitchen, absently twisting a lock of hair around and around her finger.

Quentin pops another Dorito in his mouth and waits until he’s done chewing to continue. “I think when I’m the one you’re worried about, I’m entitled to know.”

“You _and_ Jean,” she reminds him, because it’s what she’s been telling herself for the past few days. Maybe it’ll be different this time, because it’s both of them. Maybe Quentin will step up. Maybe he’ll be the turning point in this, the one who makes it different from last time. From the time before that. “And I’m not worried.”

“You-”

“Worry is what you feel when you think something bad is going to happen,” she says, stealing a Dorito from him. “I don’t think. I _know_.”

* * *

 

Quentin finds Jean out by the Marvel Girl statue, staring up at the cold stone face. “I kinda hate this thing,” she admits, slipping her hand into his when he approaches her.

“Want me to graffiti it?” he says. “The whole shebang. Eyepatch, blacked-out teeth, a scary moustache.”

“You are too sweet.”

The moonlight creates patches and shadows across the lawn, and they both look up at where it hangs in the sky, both thinking the same thing. Soon they confront the Phoenix. Soon they face either the end or the beginning of both of their lives.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Jean tells him, looking at the statue instead of Quentin. “You can still change your mind.”

“So can you,” he reminds her, squeezing her hand. “But c’mon, I think it’ll be fun. Hosting the Phoenix… with the bae.” He quirks his eyebrows up in a ridiculous manner and Jean rolls her eyes, noticing when she does that the edge of the lawn seems contorted, different than before. “Besides, if we can share a bowl of guacamole, we can share the Phoenix.”

“Does the grass look weird over there?” says Jean, trying to turn her head, but Quentin grabs her other arm and turns her away from the rest of the vast lawn. “ _What_?”

“Nothing, it’s- no, the lawn looks fine.” He seems suddenly panicked.

“Well, it- it _changed_ ,” she says, trying to twist over her neck for a better look. “Was it that Krakow thing-”

“Krakoa. And it’s not.”

Jean twists back around to look Quentin square in the face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he says, still panicked, and he’s holding her so tightly but she suddenly can’t feel his hands, can’t feel the ground beneath her feet, or anything else.

“What-” she coughs out, and the moon seems suddenly so much closer, not far away in the sky but everywhere, all around. “Quentin, _what’s happening_?”

“Where do you think we are right now, Jeannie?”

“The _school_ , moron, stop messing around.” And oh God, she’s really scared now, it’s gotten so dark, that Marvel Girl statue looks so sinister.

“We’re not,” Quentin says, his hands moving from her arms to frame her face, and still she can hardly feel them. “Jean, we- we’re on the astral plane right now. That conversation? We had it _last week_. Do you- do you remember…”

It comes rushing back to her, the planning, Hank and Ororo and everyone worrying over her for days, and then finally, the end of all the waiting, showing up on the moon…

“Oh, no,” she whispers, falling back from Quentin. He doesn’t move, just stands there and somewhat mournfully watches her come to the realization. “ _No_ , no, no no no. No. No! No no _nolongeramIthewomanyouknew_.”

“Hey,” he rasps out, stepping forward and taking both her hands. It’s something she thought she’d never see in him – genuine fear. “Hey, stay here. Stay with me, okay? Don’t think about what’s happening out there in the real world. Doesn’t matter. You gotta focus on the here and the now.” The moon, the moon is all around. “ _Jean_ , don’t do this.” _Hear me, X-men_ \- “JEAN.”

Just as fast as everything came rushing to her, it goes rushing away. She’s left standing there in front of the statue, underneath the moonlight. “Quentin?”

“You back with me?”

“Quentin, _what did I do_?” she says, panic-stricken. Even as they stand there, a fire starts somewhere far off in her mind. They can see the smoke rising over the trees.

“Nothing yet,” he promises her. “But it got you. The Phoenix. Passed me right up and went straight to you.”

“I…” The fire’s in the trees but it’s _in her_ too, soaking through her toes and fingers and saturating her brain. Fire, and power. “This was… a mistake. I don’t think I can stop it.”

“We don’t need to stop it,” says Quentin. Unbelievably, he cracks a smile. “You just need to stop being so damn _greedy_ , Red. Share it. Give me half.”

“I don’t think I can control it like that.”

“Well, _she_ could,” he says, pointing up to the statue. “C’mon, it’s not so hard. Just give me half.” He reaches out for her hands, and she wonders how everything looks in the real world, how things are going up on the moon. Is she hovering above them all, fire twining around her? Are Hank and Ororo and Rachel there? Is Emma? Have they started trying to kill her? Will they? Inside her head, Quentin’s still stretching out his hands. “Just give me half,” he says.

So she does.

She takes both his hands, and _feels_ them this time, and she listens for all the fire and power and rage inside of her. Tucks some of it away, lets it continue burning, and pours the rest into Quentin Quire. All that anger and strength, and she gives him half.

Jean can tell as soon as it hits because he straightens up, his eyes flash for just a second. And then he gets a handle on it. And then so does she.

The fire remains, but it’s contained. Less like a forest fire and more like a bonfire. Quentin must feel the same way, because he’s stretching out his arms and legs like he’s trying on a new outfit. Under his breath, he whispers, “Bitchin’.”

And then there they are on the moon, standing beside each other in spacesuits Jean’s pretty sure they don’t really need anymore. Hank and Scott are both there, looking suddenly relieved, and Emma’s there trying to pretend she’s completely disinterested in everything that’s just gone down. Rachel picks their minds for what happened and nearly sags with relief. Behind her, Ororo looks almost proud.

“Sorry,” Jean says meekly, and when Quentin laughs beside her she can feel it, the force that runs between both of them echoing his laughter in her mind. They’re connected now.

“Well,” says Hank. And then, “Well,” again. “That went… rather better than expected.” Everyone laughs a little, built-up tension sifting off and floating away into space. “Let’s all head back to the school. I’m buying everybody a beer.”

“They’re underage,” Rachel calls to him, pointing towards Jean and Quentin.

“The _Phoenix_ isn’t.”

And while they argue, Quentin looks over at Jean, reaches out, and squeezes her hand through the gloves. So it happened- the Phoenix got to her. All their worst fears came true. And in the end?

It was alright anyway.


End file.
